There's a very specific event happening during the last weekend of May that I'm very much looking forward to covering.
The general event is the Prairie Festival in Outlook, comprised of three days of food trucks, dances, a show n' shine car show, kids games, and much more.
But to be much more precise, I'm eagerly anticipating the history that will unfold on Friday, May 26 at 5:00 pm. That will be the time when the Bounty Theatre hall will be reopened with a special ceremony, followed by live music being performed in the venue for the first time in decades.
To say that it's been a very long time in the making to see the legendary hall brought back to life would be an understatement. The building sat dormant and abandoned for years in the tiny ghost town of Bounty, with efforts to try and raise funds so that it could be moved seemingly going on and on for years.
Finally, on August 27, 2014, the hall was moved.
I can remember that day so vividly. Firstly, I was suffering from a wicked sunburn on my face from being out too long and unprotected from some rays that, apparently, were out in full force a day earlier. Second, my family and I had enjoyed a day at the lake the day before in order to be together on the one-year anniversary of my dad's passing.
I can remember driving in to Bounty as the drivers were making sure that the hall was secure and doing last-minute safety checks. I can remember my Aunt Lois taking video footage as it began to move from its original foundation. I can remember my Uncle Dale shaking his head, almost in disbelief that this was finally happening. And, of course, I can remember my mom, who told me that her feelings were a mixed bag. She had so many great memories of attending dance after dance at the hall in Bounty while she was growing up, and so to see it literally being ripped from its long-time home brought a sad sense of closure to a time full of memories that she held so dear. On the other hand, she told me, moving the hall to Outlook could be a great opportunity for the venue to live on for new generations, and she took some solace in that possibility.
I could completely understand where she was coming from. When we equate our pasts to something that people cherished, and reality is seeing that thing being altered or moved, it can cause a whirlwind of emotions. The Bounty hall was the site of so many memories made for generations of folks.
After all, every Saturday night in Bounty when Mom was a kid, folks braced themselves for rip-roaring action at the hall. They came early from all areas, from Outlook and Conquest to Dinsmore and Milden, knowing a crowd of more than 200 people would jam the renowned hall for the weekend dance.
These dances were a weekly tradition, and it was also a weekly tradition to see the cloud of dust hanging over Main Street on Saturday evenings as scores of eager young adults drove into town to break loose. When the Bounty Bluebirds started playing, or the Fertile Valley Band took to the stage, or the Dallas Orchestra sat in to play a set, an echo of revelry flowed out onto the street, spreading throughout the town.
Outside the hall beside the front steps, there was even a cook at a hot dog stand, who no doubt worked feverishly to meet the increasing demand of hungry dancers who came out for fresh air, to have a smoke, or to settle a score over a girl.
As the evening would roll along towards midnight, the traditional lunch was served. Before long, the cloud of dust that hung over Main Street for hours would settle. Another Saturday night dance at the Bounty Hall was over. The hall was cleaned up, prepared for another community event during the week. The following Saturday, the town prepared itself once again for another hell-raising evening of music, dance and wild times.
From the time it opened in 1930, the Bounty Theatre was very much the focal point of the community. On top of those Saturday night dances, it was the central venue for every major event in the area, including movies, Christmas concerts, and summer fairs.
But as the years went on, the ideas of progress and future planning seemed to leave Bounty behind. It was dissolved as a village in November 1997 to become a hamlet, and the last big event held at the Bounty Theatre was in July 2000 for a reunion, when more than 400 locals and former residents enjoyed getting back together for another dance, as well as a dedication ceremony for the old school bell, which had been taken to Edmonton by former area resident Gary Lewis to have it restored, sandblasted and painted.
That bell now sits at the front entrance of the Fertile Valley Cemetery. On every one of my visits there, I ring the bell loudly and proudly. Those rings are for you, Mom.
I can't help but feel a certain level of sadness when I face the realization that so many people should still be here today who were a part of the Bounty Theatre's treasured legacy. Mom passed in March 2021, my Aunt Verna in October 2001, my Uncle Lloyd in March 2011, my Aunt Hazel in November 2019, my Aunt Lois in February 2022. There are just so many who should be here NOW to see this rejuvenation taking place. They would be so proud, and they would be so happy.
But life isn't fair sometimes.
Regardless, on Friday, May 26, I absolute cannot wait to see my uncle and aunt return to the stage in the Bounty Theatre. I'm sure the emotions will be off the charts, but seeing Dale and Shirley take to the stage to once again bring music to those hallowed halls will be perhaps one thing above all else.
It'll be fitting.
For this week, that's been the Ruttle Report.
